Dear Signora Direttore.
Now I am a-tella you story how I was a-treated at your hotella.
I am a-coma from Roma as tourist to Sweden and stay as a-younga christian at your hotella.
When I comma in my room I see there is no shit in my bed. How can I sleep with no shit in my bed? So I call down to receptione and tella: ”I wanta shit”. They tella me: ”Go to toilet”. I say: ”No no, I wanta shit in my bed”. They say: ”You better not shit in your bed, you sonna-wa-bitch”.
What is sonna-wa-bitch?
I go down for breakfast into ristorante. I order bacon and egga and two pisses of toast.
I getta only one piss of toast. I tella waitress and pointa at toast: ”I wanta piss on my plate”. She then say to me: ”You`d bloody wella not piss on the plate, your sonna-wa-bitch”. Second person who do not even know me calla me sonna-wa-bitch.
Later I go for dinner in your ristorante. Spoon and knife is laid out, but no fock. I tella waitress: ”I wanta fock”. And she tella me: ”Sure everyone wanta fock”. I tella her: ”No no, you do not understand me - I wanta fock on the table”. She tella me: ”So you sonna- wa-bitch wanta fock on the table! Get your ass out of here”.
So I go to receptione and ask for bill. I no wanta stay in this hotella no more. When I have paid the a-billa the portiere say to me: ”Thank you, and peace on you”. I say: ”Piss on you too, you sonna-wa-bitch. I go back to Italy. I never more comma stay in your hotella no more, you sonna-wa-bitch”.
Sincerely
Enriko Morelli
